Tears cannot express how much another soul means to us, and we can be at a loss for words, and we lose our way and don't know what to do, but what can you do? And so we cry and wonder at the big mystery we call life. Why does death choose those who shouldn't go yet? My God! Life is so precious, why do we forget this so often, we are all so fucking fragile! We need to express how much we care to those who mean so much, because in reality I could die tomorrow.

Part of life , the best part of life, is the people who cross our paths and bring that much more light into our daily routine. That is what makes life worth living. The people who love us.

There are many sides of glass, or maybe we should call them faces
We can see a reflection of ourselves that is reversed when we look into it, it’s still us but we are slightly backwards and perhaps opposite
There can be a glint of danger in its entity when used as a method to harm or to take away life by drawing blood.
It can entrance rainbows and have them dance about us like fairies bathing in the golden sunlight transfusing the golden rays into multicolored displays of light
We can be on one side of it looking out and wishing that we were on the other side, because it’s been said, "the grass is always greener on the other side."
It can be shaped into an artists fantasy or a dream, becoming the tangible beauty of imagination